


Orlando

by ellerkay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Cunnilingus, First Time, Genderswap, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sibling Incest, Swearing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: While working a case in a small town in Massachusetts, Dean ends up with a very different body than the one he’s used to. He thinks it’s the most fun thing ever. Sam, on the other hand, is barely holding it together. He can’t stop thinking about Dean’s new shape, and it’s making it much harder than usual to keep his desire for Dean at bay.





	Orlando

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_reversebang on Livejournal, with beautiful art by [2blueshoes](https://2blueshoes.livejournal.com/). Link(s) forthcoming when the artist is able to post to a platform.
> 
> The title is in reference to the Virginia Woolf novel, in which the main character is both and male and female throughout the course of the story. Huge thanks to [EnInkahootz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnInkahootz/works) for the invaluable beta read.

_Watertown, Massachusetts_

“DUDE! Check out my TITS!”

Sam kept his eyes on the road. In his peripheral vision, he could see Dean in the passenger seat, enthusiastically grabbing his own chest. Sam had insisted on driving, afraid of more sudden changes to Dean’s body. Dean had agreed with only a token protest, clearly eager to look himself over. He bounced his breasts in his palms and then let go of them to pull the neck of his t-shirt away from his body and stare down.

“It’s too dark,” he complained. His voice was so strange in Sam’s ears; unmistakably Dean, yet pitched much higher than he was used to. “Where’s your flashlight?”

“Just wait till we get back to the motel room,” Sam said irritably. “And call Bobby, would you?”

Dean stopped trying to ogle his own breasts and pulled out his cell phone.

“Voicemail,” he reported to Sam, after a moment. “Hey Bobby, it’s Dean. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but it’s me. Call us back, it’s been such a fucked up night.” He was actually giggling as he hung up. The long earring in his left ear caught the light as it swung, streetlights glinting off the silver and the jewel.

Sam shook his head, bemused. “I really would’ve thought you’d be completely freaked out by this. Crying about missing your dick, or something.”

“Nah, we’ll figure out how to turn me back. In the meantime, this is awesome. Who doesn’t want to know how the other half lives?” Dean’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of my dick, I gotta investigate this new situation.” He started to unzip his jeans, and Sam grabbed his wrist.

“You are _not_ ,” Sam said through gritted teeth, “going to _check out_ your _vagina_ while I’m in the car.” To his relief, he saw the sign for the Super 8 where they were staying. “Wait _two minutes_.”

Dean made a grumpy noise and sat back against the seat. He looked down at his chest again.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “But dude, seriously. Check out my _tits_.”

***

_Sixteen hours earlier_

The stage manager at the local theater, Anne, was pale and shaken as she told Sam and Dean about the flickering lights and mysterious drops in temperature which had preceded the murder of their leading man.

“At first, we thought it was kind of cool,” she said. “I mean, what theater doesn’t want a friendly ghost?”

Sam glanced around the modern theater. “Have…many people passed away here?” he asked doubtfully.

“Oh, no,” Anne said, looking confused. “It was just renovated and turned into a theater a few years ago. The building’s old, though. I don’t know if it’s from the original Arsenal, but – ”

“Sorry – arsenal?” Dean interrupted.

“Yeah, this whole complex was a US Army arsenal for a hundred and fifty years,” Anne said.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

“Anyway, I guess you’ll want to see where we found him, Agents?” Anne asked. She looked nauseous at the thought.

“Yes, please,” Sam replied.

She led them backstage, which was in chaos from the police, and pointed wordlessly.

“Is it okay if I wait outside?” she asked, voice trembling. “I can’t look at it again.”

“Of course,” Sam said.

The body had been cleared away hours ago, but written in blood on the wall were the words, “BLASTING HIS WHOLESOME BROTHER.”

“So. Soldier who died bloody?” Dean said, after the theater door shut behind Anne.

“I’m not sure,” Sam said, taking pictures of the writing with his phone. “We don’t know if anyone even died here when this place was an arsenal. And this doesn’t really sound like an angry soldier. Also, why attack an actor all of a sudden?”

“Maybe he was a shitty actor.” Dean pulled out his EMF meter and turned it on. It immediately went crazy, and Dean shut it off. “Okay, between the cold spots and the lights and the EMF…”

“It must be a ghost,” Sam concluded. He stared at the writing, frowning.

“Blasting sounds soldier-y,” Dean pointed out.

“Maybe,” Sam murmured. “The words sound kind of familiar…Okay. Let’s hit the library.”

They left the theater. Anne was waiting for them outside.

“Thank you for your help,” Sam said, as Dean walked on ahead. She nodded.

“Who would do something like this?” she said. Sam gave her a sympathetic face. “You know, it’s _Macbeth_ that’s supposed to be cursed.”

“What play were you doing?” Sam asked.

“ _Hamlet_.” Anne had a haunted expression. “Jeff – he was playing Hamlet.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said.

He caught up with Dean, and they got into the Impala and headed for the local library, which was very close – Watertown was quite small, though densely populated. The town square was a nightmare intersection of five busy roads. Dean accidentally got in the wrong lane to turn onto Main Street and complained vociferously about Massachusetts drivers, flipping the bird to a couple people who honked at him.

There were no free parking spots in the small lot at the library (due, Sam suspected, less to library patronage and more to the football practice going on in the field next to the lot), and Sam suggested that Dean go back to the motel. Sam knew his brother would be happier after a nap; he’d driven all night to get them to Massachusetts, brushing off Sam’s offer to take a turn, as he so often did. They’d arrived early in the morning and taken just enough time to shower and change into their FBI suits before they’d gone to meet the stage manager. And Sam could use a little alone time, and the space to enjoy the library without being called a nerd every two minutes. Dean happily agreed to let Sam research on his own.

Like the theater, the library had clearly been renovated not too long ago. Sam got a cup of coffee in the little café they had installed, and sipped it while browsing the cheap used books which lined the shelves on the café’s walls. He ended up buying a trashy mystery, which was his go-to light reading.

When he was done with his coffee, Sam headed up to the library’s reading room. It was in the old half of the building, which was beautiful, and Sam was glad it hadn’t been bulldozed during the renovations. The walls were lined with books about the town, which had been founded in 1620, and its long history. Sam browsed for a minute, just for fun, then took a seat and fired up his laptop.

It didn’t take him long to confirm that the quote on the wall was from _Hamlet_ , as he’d suspected. He began looking into the Arsenal buildings, finding the local history books useful, but failing to turn up any suspicious deaths.

He switched to local actors, and for a while that didn’t yield any results, either. But finally, it occurred to him to cross-reference with _Hamlet_ , and there was his answer.

Sam smiled at the computer screen and looked up a couple other things, then packed up his bag and left the library. The sun was bright and the sky was a beautiful blue, the October day crisp and pleasant. So, instead of calling Dean, Sam walked back to the motel along the Charles River for a ways, before crossing a few streets to reach the motel. It wasn’t the most direct route, but the foliage was beautiful, and Sam liked a walk, anyway.

***

Dean had been glad for a little time alone, while Sam did his nerd thing. He was tired from the long night, and he jerked off slow and lazy before falling asleep for a couple hours. When he woke up, he turned on the TV and was pleased to find _Die Hard_ airing on a cable channel. Once it went to commercial, he looked for good local restaurants on his phone.

Sam arrived back at the motel not long after, breathing a little hard – from a fast walk, Dean figured – a pink flush spread across his face, the result of the chill air and the exertion. Dean’s stomach did a little flip, and he was suddenly glad he’d jerked off earlier. Sometimes the sight of Sam looking especially good did things to his dick that should never, _ever_ happen from seeing your little brother.

Dean shoved the thrill of attraction down, fast. “I would’ve come and gotten you, dude,” he said.

“The library’s so close, it wasn’t worth it,” Sam said. “And it’s a beautiful day. Anyway.” He grinned triumphantly. “Edwin Booth.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“He was a 19th century actor. Brother of John Wilkes Booth.”

“Wait – the guy who shot Lincoln?”

“Yeah, exactly. And his signature role? Hamlet.” Sam looked extremely pleased with himself. “He’s buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery, less than a mile from here.”

“Damn,” Dean said, impressed despite himself. “Yeah, that does sound plausible…Dude’s mad that history remembers his dick brother better than him, and then someone else is daring to do _Hamlet_.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what – go to the cemetery tonight, do a salt-and-burn?”

“Yeah, but I think we should go find his grave this afternoon. Make sure we know where it is, and have an idea of the surrounding terrain.”

Dean scoffed. “How hard can it be? And what do you mean, the _terrain_? It’s a fucking graveyard.”

“Yeah, a hundred and seventy-four acre graveyard, with a lot of hills, which is also an arboretum, and has coyotes living in it,” Sam said.

Dean blinked. “Oh. All right, we’ll case it. But first – lunch,” he said. “At Wild Willy’s.”

Sam made a face. “Dean, I’m not eating a meal in a strip club. Once was more than enough.”

“It’s not a strip club! It’s a burger joint and it’s right down the street. Kinda pricey for burgers, but it’s got great reviews. It’s even got salad for you and your weird rabbit-food ways.”

Sam looked resigned. “All right, fine.”

***

When they arrived at the restaurant, Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s exclamations of joy over the Western-themed décor, but smiled fondly when Dean’s back was turned. Annoying as he could be – and often was – Dean’s enthusiasm was one of his most charming qualities, and even Sam wasn’t immune to it. He ignored the little ache of love in his heart that Dean’s smile brought on, that bit that was more than brotherly. It was an old wound, and he was so used to the pain that most of the time he hardly felt it.

Even though there were plenty of tables available, Dean insisted on sitting at the counter, because one of the stools had a saddle instead of a normal top. He made ecstatic noises over his “Bubba BBQ” burger (half a pound of meat with bacon, cheddar cheese, red onion, pickles, and barbeque sauce), and Sam enjoyed his salad more quietly. Although it actually was surprisingly good. Most burger joints didn’t really bother with decent salad, but the ingredients were fresh, and the grilled chicken he’d gotten on top was good quality. And he stole a few of Dean’s fries, which Dean pretended to be mad about, and they were good, too, freshly made from whole potatoes.

After lunch, they drove to the cemetery, which was only minutes away. They parked inside, near a little chapel, and Sam found a map in the small visitor’s center inside the Egyptian Revival-style gates which listed the graves of famous people interred there. After studying it for a moment, Sam got his bearings, and they set off.

The foliage here was even more varied and spectacular than along the river. They’d obviously come at peak season, and there were plenty of visitors to the graveyard on that beautiful Saturday. Sam looked around, quietly enjoying it, while Dean complained about walking, obviously ready for another nap after his huge lunch.

“We could have driven closer,” Dean grumped.

“Shut up, walking is good for you,” Sam said. “And, it’s gorgeous here.” He regretted adding that as soon as the words left his mouth.

Sure enough, Dean scoffed loudly. “Sure, yeah, buncha dead leaves,” he said. “Amazing. And hey, trees! Graves! We’ve never seen those before.”

Sam said nothing. Dean, too, fell silent for a couple minutes.

“I mean, I guess it’s better than those really depressing cemeteries we see a lot,” he said suddenly. “The ones that are just, like, rows of headstones. At least here they tried.”

Sam glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. For Dean, that was practically a ringing endorsement of the beauty of the place. He considered calling Dean on it, but decided to just be glad Dean wasn’t bitching about the walk anymore.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and they lapsed into silence again, looking around and taking in the autumn sights as they made their way toward Booth’s grave.

The grave, as it turned out, was up a hill and along a steep, only partially paved path, and Sam was glad they weren’t trying to fumble their way there for the first time in the dark. He looked around carefully, trying to take note of any really uneven ground, and of how exposed they would be, in case this place had nighttime security. Dean was doing the same thing.

They scouted around the area for hiding places, in case the need arose, and then walked clear to the far end of the cemetery, opposite its main entrance. There, they found a chain-link gate, which would be much easier to scale than the thick concrete walls surrounding most of the graveyard. They returned to Booth’s grave, to be certain they knew how to get to it from that entrance, and finally headed back towards the Impala.

Not far from Booth’s grave, Dean nudged him. “Check out Gothy McGee hanging out in the cemetery,” he said, jerking his chin towards a woman in her mid-thirties a ways down the road. She was dressed in all black and dripping with silver jewelry. Beside her was another, taller woman; the two talked animatedly.

“Don’t most people get over that in high school?” Dean said snidely. Sam rolled his eyes. Admittedly, the woman was kind of overdoing it, but she looked happy, and the older Sam got, the more he felt the urge to just live and let live.

“I bet she loves this place,” he said. It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

“We’ll do it down here,” the woman was saying to her companion as Sam and Dean passed them. The pair turned down a path which, Sam remembered from the map, led to Consecration Dell, a small vernal pool in the valley beneath a large hill, where the cemetery consecration ceremony had taken place back in 1831. Sam had found when researching the cemetery that the top of the hill had a tower you could climb up, and he suggested that they visit it and take in the view.

“Oh my god, you are such a leaf-peeping dork,” Dean groaned, but he went along without further comment, and Sam knew he must really be enjoying himself.

Dean did complain as they climbed the 62-foot spiral staircase inside the feudal-style granite tower, but abruptly stopped when they reached the top. Sam stood in one spot, drinking in the view of downtown Boston in the distance and the colorful trees surrounding them, while Dean moved around the circumference of the tower, checking out the whole panorama.

“Not bad,” he concluded, when he got back to Sam. Sam smiled, enjoying the vista and the wind in his hair and the happy look in Dean’s green eyes, and feeling for a minute like they were just tourists in a beautiful place.

***

They got a pizza for dinner. Dean loved the Greek-style pizza common to the area, with its thick layer of cheese; Sam preferred Italian style, which had a thinner crust and less cheese, but didn’t bitch about what they had.

A little before eleven, they drove to the back entrance of the cemetery. Dean parked in an office building parking lot across the street from the gate. The street was a little busier than Dean would have liked, but they timed it carefully and both managed to scramble over the fence between cars.

They made their way back to Booth’s grave. The cemetery was different at night. Dean was too used to graveyards to find them particularly spooky, although he was always aware of the danger they might pose. Mount Auburn Cemetery, though, felt a little otherworldly. Despite the careful maintenance which obviously went into it, there was something just a bit wild about it; all the more so at night. There were bits where if it weren’t for the paved path or cropped grass under his feet, Dean could almost think he was in the woods.

They briefly took a wrong turn, but Sam realized it and quickly found the right way again. Dean didn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful that Sam had insisted they scout it out in the daytime. It was kind of a labyrinth, and Booth’s grave wasn’t exactly on one of the main drags.

Besides, it had been kind of pretty. If you were into trees and junk, which Dean wasn’t, but hey, he liked a little sunshine sometimes.

The salt-and-burn was routine; Booth didn’t even put in an appearance, which made Dean frown.

“You sure it was him?” he said to Sam, as they shoveled dirt back into the open grave. “You sure he’s not tied to something at the theater?”

“No,” Sam said, sounding exasperated. “Of course I’m not sure. So we’ll stay in town for a couple days. Make sure the killing stops.”

“Cool,” Dean said. “I haven’t even had clam chowder yet.”

They were just about to head back to the car when Sam frowned and half-turned, sniffing the air. He looked so much like a deer that Dean almost started laughing.

“Do you smell smoke?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, dude, we just burned a corpse,” Dean said.

“No – not that kind of smoke. Woodsmoke.” Sam pointed in the approximate direction of the main entrance. “Coming from over there.”

Dean took a deep breath, and then he did smell it. He looked back at Sam. “Want to check it out?”

“Probably a good idea.”

Dean nodded, and they set off carefully down the steep path.

The smoke was coming from Consecration Dell. They went in the closest entrance, but quickly realized that the path there was steep and unpaved, and covered with leaves, and would have far too treacherous footing in the dark. Sam remembered a different, paved entrance a little ways away, and they walked along the edge until they found it.

As they got closer, they saw the flicker of firelight through the greenery. A voice was chanting, low but clear. Sam and Dean exchanged a look and wordlessly drew their guns.

They walked down the path for a few yards, and then cut across the grass and made their way as quietly as they could towards the light. They crouched behind a couple of old gravestones in a burial plot, and, peering through some bushes, saw a small fire burning on the path near the pond. In a grass clearing was a woman, the source of the chanting. She stood in a circle of stones. In front of her lay another figure, unbound, but motionless. Sam and Dean could faintly see a small object floating in the air above the woman, but couldn’t make out what it was.

The woman’s chanting grew louder, and she raised her arms. The object started to descend towards the still figure on the ground.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. He stepped out from behind the gravestone.

“Dean – ” Sam hissed, but Dean wasn’t waiting to see what the witch was up to.

“Hey!” he shouted, raising his gun and charging down the stone steps which led from the burial plot to the path by the clearing. “These are WITCH-KILLING BULLETS, so – ”

Dean’s foot slipped on some wet leaves on the bottom step; he stumbled and landed hard in the circle. A sharp pain pierced his left earlobe, which was bizarre, because he’d fallen on his right side. There were screams – one high-pitched, one lower – and the recumbent figure was scrambling upright.

“DEAN!” came Sam’s familiar shout, but Dean felt very strange and could hardly focus on Sam’s voice.

The witch yelled something and there was a brilliant flash of white light, which seared his eyes. It lasted for a full ten seconds. Dean lay still; the weird feeling was fading as his vision slowly cleared. Seconds after he could kind of see again, Sam was by his side, shaking him.

“Dean. Dean!” Sam said, tone frantic.

“I’m okay,” Dean said. His voice sounded high in his ears. Sam was touching him gently all over, their practiced check for broken bones or other serious injury.

“Get off me, I’m fine,” Dean said. Sam ignored him, and when he touched Dean’s chest, he pulled his hand away like he’d been burned.

“Dean…” Sam said, voice puzzled.

“What?” Dean’s hand lfew to his chest, where he found…a lot more than normal.

“What the fuck?” Dean yelped, rolling to his feet. “Did I get hit with a boob job spell?!”

He looked up at Sam, and realized that although they were on level ground, he was looking up noticeably further than usual. Sam clicked on his flashlight and pointed it at Dean.

“I don’t think it was just for breasts,” he said slowly.

Dean looked down at himself, touching his suddenly wider hips, bigger thighs...

“Oh, shit,” he said, dumbfounded. A thought occurred to him, and he groped for his junk through his jeans, which were suddenly too loose in the waist and stretched a little tight in the thighs.

Nothing.

“Oh, shit,” Dean repeated, staring openmouthed at Sam. “Dude…” He started laughing, almost hysterically. “Dude looks like a lady!”

Sam exhaled with an annoyed huff, and Dean could practically feel the bitchface he couldn’t see Sam making in the dark.

***

They searched the cemetery for a little while, but quickly concluded that they weren’t going to get anywhere on foot in the dark. Mount Auburn was too big, with too many places to hide. If the witch and whoever had been with her were even still there, which was a long shot.

They went back to Booth’s grave to collect their shovels and other gear, and returned to the Impala, Dean checking his new body out on the ride until Sam made him stop.

The second they were parked, Dean bounced out of the car and streaked into the motel. Sam sighed and followed more slowly. When he opened the door to their room, he found Dean, completely naked, examining himself in the full-length mirror outside the bathroom door. He looked at Sam with a huge grin.

“Dude!” he said. “I’m so fucking _hot_!”

Sam froze for a split second, then strode into the room and slammed the door shut before anyone else could see. He turned around and leaned his forehead on the door, eyes shut, but the image was seared into his brain.

Dean was shorter, but still tall for a woman – 5 foot 10 or so, Sam thought – with long, muscular legs and a really, _unfairly_ , spectacular ass. He had the slightest swell of stomach, narrower shoulders…Sam couldn’t see the muscles in his arms so clearly anymore, but he was betting they were there, because what he could see was lean and toned. Dean’s face was a little narrower, and a little more delicate, but he still looked like Dean. Sam couldn’t decide if he was glad about that or if it made everything a million times worse.

And, yeah, he could see why Dean had spent the whole car ride trying to get him to look at his breasts. They were…

Sam squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried not to think about them. Or about anything else he’d seen.

“Hey, Sam – oh, calm down, you big prude.” Sam heard some quiet noises as Dean moved around, and then felt a tap on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Sammy, I’m decent.” Sam turned around to see a smirking Dean, who was now dressed in boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. His nipples were still plainly visible through the worn material.

“My eyes are up here, Sam,” Dean said, still smirking. “Ugh, why are men such pigs?”

Sam rolled his eyes, feeling heartily relieved. Dean being obnoxious made this a little easier to deal with.

A little.

The earring in Dean’s left ear caught Sam’s eye, and he frowned. He hadn’t noticed it at the cemetery or in the car. He reached a hand out towards it.

“Where did this come from?” he asked. Dean jerked his head back.

“Dude, don’t touch it. My ear hurts, and your hands are probably covered in graveyard dirt.” He fingered the earring. “I think this thing’s where the curse is coming from. It pierced my ear when I fell into the circle, and now it won’t come out.”

“You thought it was cursed, and you tried to just yank it out?” Sam demanded. Dean rolled his eyes. Were his eyelashes longer now?

“Yeah, because I’m a fucking idiot. No, I just kind of carefully tried. Wouldn’t budge.”

Sam heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ll look up care for new piercings, I guess.” He sat down at the small motel room table and opened his laptop.

Dean gestured at himself. “I look like this and that’s what you’re investigating?”

“Calm down, I’ll research the rest of it later.” Anything to look away from Dean; the curve of his hips, the t-shirt tight across his chest…

“Can’t I just use soap?” Dean was saying.

“No,” Sam replied. “It says you should use saline solution.”

“What? Come on, I’m just gonna shower.”

“You’ll get shampoo in it, which is also bad, and you have to be able to wash it out after…” Sam looked up to see Dean practically dancing on his toes, grinning widely. Sam felt a flush creeping across his face as he realized why Dean was so eager to get into the shower. He looked away again and swallowed.

“That CVS in the town square is open 24 hours,” he muttered. “I’ll get you some while you shower.”

He practically fled the motel room; from the cheerful “Thanks!” Dean threw after him, Dean hadn’t noticed.

***

Dean was stripping off his clothes again the second the door banged shut. He turned on the shower and stepped in as soon as the water was hot. For a moment he just let it run over him, but then eagerly grabbed the soap and started lathering up.

God, he _liked_ this body. He wouldn’t want to stay in it forever, but…the curves, the soft skin – fuck, how did girls not just spend all day staring at themselves?

After a quick but thorough examination, and a little tweaking of his nipples – which were rosy and kinda gorgeous, he thought – for foreplay, Dean rinsed the soap off and then slid his hands between his legs, past the thatch of dark hair, gasping as his fingers slipped into his folds. He found his opening without much trouble, but the angle was awkward, and after a second he lay down in the tub, legs spread wide, and eagerly slid a finger into himself.

Oh, _fuck_ yes. He groaned as he added another finger, quickly finding his G-spot and applying pressure. His back arched and he started circling his clit with his other finger, biting back a cry. He was so fucking sensitive…

It felt so good, Dean got a little lost in it, teasing himself and feeling how new and different this pleasure was. As he relaxed, his thoughts strayed to Sam, who seemed weirdly tense about the whole situation. Dean thought about how Sam was suddenly even fucking taller than before, relatively, and he wondered if Sam could lift him now. Dean could wrap his legs around him, and Sam could pin him against a wall, and Sam could just slide right into him, so easy…

Dean moaned aloud and then realized what he’d been thinking about, and he wrenched his thoughts away. With a jolt, he realized he’d better hurry this up. The drugstore Sam had gone to wasn’t far. Dean stroked his clit faster and faster, biting his lip, not thinking about why he was so turned on, just concentrating on the feelings in this new body. The sensation built and built and then Dean’s orgasm hit him like a freight train. This time he did cry out, taken totally by surprise by the intensity of it, and how it went on and on. When it was over, Dean didn’t stop, hoping that he was one of the lucky vagina owners who could – 

Oh fuck, he was. The second orgasm was less intense, but still friggin’ _wonderful_ , as Dean gasped through it. When it was finally over, he collapsed back against the tub with a groan.

After a moment, he heard the motel room door shut. _Good timing, Sammy,_ he thought, grinning. He quickly finished his shower and then strolled out into the room in just a towel. Sam was in bed already, his back to Dean, but Dean could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Dude, women are so fucking lucky,” Dean said. “Do you know their orgasms last way longer than ours?”

“Yeah, I did,” Sam said shortly.

“Tomorrow, we gotta go get me some girl clothes and shit. Bras! I need bras!”

Sam groaned. “Fine,” he said. “The stuff for your ear is on the table. Now let me get some sleep.”

***

_Ten minutes earlier_

Sam stood in front of the motel room door, trying to decide if he should knock or what. He’d taken his time as best he could, browsing the aisles of the pharmacy and trying to ignore the incessant thoughts in his head. What would Dean look like, masturbating in the shower? Drops of water on his skin, clinging to his nipples…

Finally, he had to get out of there, just to get away from his own fantasies.

Sam decided that he’d have to risk it. If Dean was still in the shower, he probably wouldn’t even hear a knock. Sam keyed the lock pad and opened the door.

Sam was greeted with an unmistakable cry of pleasure from the bathroom, and he froze halfway into the room, heart pounding, blood rushing to his dick. He waited, and after a couple minutes, there was a long, satisfied groan. Sam shut his eyes and tried to breathe. It sounded like Dean was done, at least.

After what seemed like a reasonable interval, Sam shut the door loudly. He threw the bottle of saline solution on the table, shucked his jeans and shirt without bothering to fold them up, turned out the light, and crawled into bed.

He was so hard he could barely see straight. He thrust his hand into his boxers and wrapped it around his cock. He set a punishing rhythm and came in a few strokes, biting down hard on his lip. He heard the shower shut off just as he finished.

Sam’s head was a little clearer, but he felt no less miserable. For practically all his life, he’d done everything he could to avoid thinking about Dean’s body, outside of its well-being. And now…well, how could he possibly think about anything else? This female body, just as gorgeous as Dean’s old one, but in a vastly different way, and Sam’s head was filled with how it looked and how it used to look and _god_ , had there ever been a bigger freak than Sam? And Dean was determined, apparently, to just parade himself around, because of course it would never in a million years occur to him what that would do to Sam. Dean obviously thought the whole situation was a big joke.

The bathroom door opened and light spilled out into the room. Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, just in case Dean decided to walk into his line of vision. Who knew if he was wearing anything at all.

He kept the conversation as short as he could, afraid that Dean would immediately know something was wrong. At least Dean was planning to get some clothing, and hadn’t decided to become a full-time nudist while his body looked like that.

Dean went to bed a few minutes later. Sam didn’t fall asleep for a couple hours, until almost dawn, and when he did, he dreamed about Dean, looking beautiful and laughing at him.

***

He woke up just a few hours later, to Dean’s cheerful “Up and at ’em, Sammy!”

Sam groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, trying to bury his face in the pillow. Dean shook his shoulder.

“Come on, man. Your sister needs some damn girl clothes.”

“What do you need me for?” Sam demanded.

“I figure you probably know more about women’s fashion than I do.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean shook his shoulder again, and the smell of coffee filled his nose. “I gotcha covered. Let’s hit up Target. There’s one right down the street.”

Sam sat up and accepted the coffee, knowing when to admit defeat. Dean wanted him there for the clothes, for some reason. It was like fighting the wind. Easier to just go in the direction Dean wanted him to.

After his coffee, Sam took a shower, feeling grimy with the graveyard dirt he hadn’t taken the time to wash off last night, in his desperation to escape consciousness.

“Thanks, Bobby,” he heard Dean saying, as he pulled on his jeans. He opened the bathroom door.

“What’d he say?” he asked, finger-combing his damp hair. Dean’s eyes flicked to his bare chest and back up again, so fast Sam wondered if he’d imagined it. Even if he hadn’t, it surely didn’t mean what Sam wanted it to mean.

“He thinks it’s hilarious,” Dean said cheerfully. “He’s gonna look into cures, but he said we’d better find the witch who did it, cause it could be hard to undo without her.”

Sam grimaced and pulled his T-shirt over his head. “I have no idea how we’re going to do that,” he said. “I got a look at her face in that flash of light, right before I was totally blinded, but we have no clue how to find her.”

“That sounds like a problem for after my shopping spree,” Dean said.

***

At Target, Dean made a beeline for the bras. Having no idea what size he was, he got a huge pile of different ones to try. Then he moved to the women’s clothing section, grabbing anything he liked and thought would look hot on a girl. Sam followed behind him, very quiet. Dean wondered what the hell was up with him, but decided to just concentrate on shopping.

When his cart was overflowing, Dean headed to the dressing room. He could only take in eight items at a time, so he left Sam to guard the cart as he made several rounds, quickly finding his sizes and then having Sam pick out the items that might actually fit while he tried them on.

He was so pleased with his ass and curves in a pair of short shorts and a tight tank top that he went to the entrance of the dressing room to show it off.

“Sam!” he said. “Check this out.” He struck a pose as Sam looked up from his phone.

For a split second, Sam looked like he’d been punched in the gut, his eyes raking down Dean’s body. Before Dean could say anything, the look was gone, and Dean thought maybe he’d imagined it.

“It’s October,” Sam said. “You’re not gonna need summer clothes.”

“They’re on clearance,” Dean protested, but it came out a little weakly. Sam’s face...Dean went back to the dressing room and took off the clothes, but the fun had gone out of things. He couldn’t have imagined that look on Sam’s face, could he? It looked like Sam wanted to _devour_ him.

The memory sparked arousal low in Dean’s pelvis, familiar and yet different. _Okay, so that’s what it feels like to get wet,_ he thought, trying to concentrate on the sensation and not imagine Sam throwing him down on a bed, Sam’s mouth on his breasts – 

Dean quickly got dressed again in his own clothes and felt very thankful that women couldn’t get erections.

He picked the clothes he liked best out of the ones that fit and left the rest with the dressing room attendant, feeling subdued until he passed the shoes.

“Really?” Sam said wearily, when Dean began walking in that direction.

“Dude, my shoes are too big. Can’t hunt in those.”

“Can’t hunt in _those_ , either,” Sam said, of the high-heeled boots Dean was examining, but Dean just grinned at him, good mood partially restored. He was in love with these, and damned if he wasn’t going to wear them while he had the chance.

He got lucky and guessed his size right on the first try, and added the high-heeled boots and a pair of hiking boots to the cart.

“Can we go now?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I think – wait!” Dean snapped his fingers. “Panties.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Can’t you just wear the underwear you have?”

“Yeah, but come on, I gotta get some fun ones,” Dean said. “Because I’m worth it.” He looked closely at Sam, wondering if he’d get that look again, but Sam only sighed and nodded. He refused to go back into the lingerie section, though, and waited in the aisle while Dean found a couple of lacy black pairs he would have loved to see on a hot lady.

***

Back at the motel, Dean immediately found the bags he wanted, and the box with the high-heeled boots, and ran straight into the bathroom to change. Sam sat at the table and waited, bracing himself and practicing a neutral expression. He barely hung onto it when Dean came out in a denim dress with spaghetti straps, which had slits practically up to his thighs. He looked incredible.

“You’re gonna be cold in that,” was all Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I have a coat,” he said. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

“That’s what you want to wear to lunch?” Sam could hear his voice almost cracking and prayed Dean wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go to a seafood restaurant. It’s Boston, and your hot sister should get a nice meal out.”

It was easier just to agree, and so Sam did.

The food was great, but Sam could barely eat, between trying not to look at Dean and trying not to look at the people looking at Dean. And Dean just ate it all up – the food, the attention; flashing cleavage and leg and flirting with their very attractive male waiter, who happily flirted back.

_This’ll all be over soon,_ Sam reminded himself, gritting his teeth. He hoped. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to get used to ignoring a whole new body of Dean’s.

It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the motel room; Dean had taken his time with lunch, and then they’d gone for a walk in the Public Gardens downtown, Dean strutting along in a decidedly non-feminine way, which still somehow made him look great and which had garnered him many admiring looks. Sam had kept his eyes on the ground.

The second they got into the room, Dean tossed Sam his phone. “Hey, take a picture of me, wouldja?” He sat on the low motel dresser/TV stand, legs splayed, head in one hand, grinning. The dress’ spaghetti straps had slipped down. He looked so happy and so beautiful that Sam wanted to cry.

He swallowed down his emotions and took the picture.

Only after did it occur to Sam to ask, “Why did you want that, anyway?”

Dean was staring at the picture on his phone. He smirked. “Oh, you know. Just for a memento.”

Something in his tone gave Sam pause. “Oh, my god,” he said, when it clicked. “You’re going to jerk off to it?!”

Dean gestured to himself. “Dude. Look what a hot chick I make.”

Sam just shook his head in disbelief and opened his laptop. He felt stuck somewhere between laughing and crying and decided that trying to track down the witch would be the best thing for him.

***

Deciding to leave Sam to his research – what could he really add, anyway; Sam was the one who knew what she looked like – Dean flopped down on his stomach on his bed and played on his phone, kicking his feet absently in the air.

After about fifteen minutes, something occurred to him, and he looked over at Sam. “I should totally go out tonight, right?”

“What?”

“To a bar, or something. I gotta get lucky while I’m in this body.”

Sam frowned. “You want to go to a lesbian bar?”

“No – well, I mean yeah, maybe, if there’s time before we turn me back – but nah, I was just thinking a regular bar.”

“So…you’re bi now?”

Dean didn’t really want to answer that question, because it wasn’t something he’d ever told his brother and it wasn’t like he even hooked up with guys that often, anyways. “I just think it would be really interesting to find out what it’s like to get fucked when you have a vagina! I mean, I can’t pass up this opportunity, right?”

Sam had a funny expression on his face. “So you’re just going to pick up some random guy? What if he’s an asshole? Or worse?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Sam, I might be in this body, but I’m still me. Pretty sure years of training and a lot of weapons trumps slightly less upper body strength.” _Too bad you can’t just ask your baby brother to show you a good time,_ said the ugly little voice in his head that, after Hell, had always sounded like Alastair. Dean shoved the thought down and looked back at his phone. “So, you wanna help me find someplace that looks good?”

Sam didn’t reply, and after a minute, Dean looked up again, expecting to see Sam ignoring him, back at work on his computer. Instead, Sam was staring at Dean, looking stricken. He looked away and stood up the second Dean’s eyes met his.

“Sammy, what is it?” Dean asked. Sam’s expression had lashed him like a whip.

“I could use a walk,” Sam mumbled, picking up his jacket.

Dean jumped off the bed. “Hey, come on, man, it’s all right. If you’re really that worried about your big sister – ”

“Dean, of course I know you can look out for yourself,” Sam snapped.

“Then what?” Dean demanded, ignoring the warning instinct that told him not to push Sam on this. “You’ve been acting weird since last night. Why does this have you so freaked?”

“I’m not freaked, I’m pissed off,” Sam shouted. “Ever since you got this body you’ve been running around half-dressed – or _less_ – and I can’t – ” He stopped abruptly.

“Can’t what?” Dean heard himself ask. His heart was hammering and his higher voice, which he still wasn’t used to, sounded like it was coming from far away.

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he stared at Dean, his eyes dark and pained. “I can’t take it anymore,” he said hollowly. “I can’t watch you parading around and know I can never…” He shut his eyes and turned away. “Dean, please. I’m begging you. Just let me go clear my head. I’ll be fine.”

Dean still wasn’t processing all of this very well, but he damn well knew Sam would not be fine. That look in his eyes told a very different story. A story Dean knew all too well.

When Sam reached for the door, Dean grabbed his wrist instinctively. Sam glared at him.

“I said let me go, Dean,” he said, and oh boy, staring up that fierce expression, the near-growl in Sam’s voice…If Dean hadn’t known how upset Sam was, he would’ve been turned on.

…He was kind of turned on anyway. Kind of a lot.

Dean realized he was just staring at Sam, mouth agape. _Say something SAY SOMETHING,_ his brain screamed, and Dean swallowed, hard.

“Or, I mean,” Dean said. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. “You could stay, and I don’t have to go out tonight.”

Sam closed his eyes for a second. “Dean, I don’t want to stop you,” he said. “I get why you want to experience that. I do.”

“No,” Dean said insistently. “I mean…you stay, and I don’t go out, and I…I get to experience it anyway.” He felt like he was going to throw up.

Sam blinked at him slowly. “You…you want that?” he said.

Dean nodded, quickly, before he could chicken out.

“And you’re not bothered by the fact that we’re brothers?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’m bothered. I’ll probably hate myself forever for wanting you like this, but hey, what’s one more log on that particular fire?” Dean shrugged, trying to ignore Sam’s sad expression. He always looked like that when Dean said that kind of thing; that was hardly the new territory in this conversation.

“And I never wanna see you look like that again,” Dean barreled on. “Like you did a few minutes ago.”

Sam’s brow furrowed and he gently pulled his wrist from Dean’s grasp, straightening up. “Are you just doing this for me?” he asked quietly, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“What?” Dean said. “Of course not. I…” Sam looked at him again, and Dean gave Sam a slow once-over, for the first time letting himself think about how painfully gorgeous Sam really was, without trying to cover up the feelings or banish them to some dark corner of his mind. He met Sam’s eyes at the end, trying to let his need show in them, silently begging Sam not to make him say it.

Sam’s mouth fell open slightly. “Dean,” he said softly, and then he closed the gap between them and pushed Dean against the wall with his body, so they were pressing together.

Dean gulped and wondered if you could wreck panties by getting too wet.

“Dean,” Sam said again, in that same quiet tone, and then his huge hand was cupping Dean’s cheek, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

And then his lips were on Dean’s, nothing soft about it, and Dean was kissing him back just as hard, head craned back, throwing his arms around Sam’s neck without even thinking about it and ohgod, letting out an actual whimper.

That had to be the girl-body’s fault.

It was also, Dean decided, this body’s fault that Sam’s arms around his waist made him feel slightly faint, and that all he could think about was his breasts mashed against Sam’s broad chest (god, that chest) and that when Sam slid his leg between Dean’s, it took considerable restraint not to hump his thigh.

Sam finally let him up for some air, but Dean couldn’t catch his breath, not when Sam was immediately kissing his neck, his shoulders, his upper chest.

“Okay? You okay? This okay?” Sam kept whispering, and Dean managed to choke out a couple affirmative responses and tried to show his really, really enthusiastic consent with his hands in Sam’s hair – god, he loved that stupid, soft, too-long, perfect hair – and in his gasps and moans. Because he couldn’t really speak through this tidal wave of feeling, arousal and desire and a million other emotions so strong he half wanted to cry.

That was definitely the female hormones, right?

Sam’s lips were on his again, Sam’s tongue in his mouth, and that was Sam’s hard-on pressing into his thigh, oh god that shouldn’t turn Dean on so much but he could feel his face getting even warmer with arousal, and even the shame was just making this hotter right now.

Sam’s hand at his back was unzipping his dress and as soon as the zipper was down Dean shoved the dress off and kicked it away.

Sam took a step back and Dean panicked for a second that he’d changed his mind, but he was just looking Dean up and down, and even though Dean had been totally naked in front of him the night before, he suddenly felt way more exposed. He started to cross his arms over his chest, but Sam stepped forward and kissed him again. Dean felt like he was drowning in the smell of Sam, the taste of him. Sam’s hands were on his hips and Dean’s arms were around Sam’s neck again like this was a fucking romance novel and he was the lady about to be ravished, which – he could actually feel a _throb_ of desire – he was.

Sam slid his hands down to cup Dean’s ass and Dean attempted to get a leg around Sam’s waist, trying to get higher so he could grind against him properly, and Sam chuckled and lifted him up like he weighed nothing.

Dean made a strangled noise and got his legs around Sam. Sam’s face was level with his tits now, and Sam nuzzled them, grinning like a fool, and the look made Dean so happy he could almost forget how crazy this was. Then Sam sucked one of Dean’s nipples into his mouth and Dean actually forgot, throwing his head back and groaning. Sam let go and went straight for the other one, grazing it with his teeth.

“Fuck,” Dean swore.

“We’ll get there,” Sam murmured, and Dean would have punched him in the arm for that, he really would have, but now Sam was walking them backwards and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dean got his legs back under him and realized he was now straddling his brother, who had put his arms behind him, bracing them. He looked at Sam.

“Well?” Sam said, and there was a flash of vulnerability there, a little uncertainty. So Dean took a deep breath and shifted slightly, resettling himself where he wanted to be, with Sam’s hard length right between his legs. Sam’s lips parted slightly and Dean pressed against the bulge, letting his hips circle a little.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, just as Sam was saying “Oh, god,” and grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and kissing him again, hard. Dean kissed him right back but started unbuttoning Sam’s shirt, too, because it really wasn’t fair that Sam was still fully dressed.

The second it was undone, Sam shucked it, and pulled his T-shirt over his head before Dean could even start. Dean tried to look – he never got to look, he was always too busy making himself look away – but Sam was pulling him in for another long kiss, and oh, yeah, his breasts against Sam’s chest felt impossibly good; the warmth, the soft scratch of hair on his nipples…Dean could feel Sam’s dick throb even through the denim and he wondered if they could both come just from grinding up against each other this way. He sure felt like he could.

But apparently, he wasn’t going to get to find out, because suddenly Sam lifted him up again and dumped him on his back on the bed. Sam loomed over him, and Dean couldn’t keep his hands off him – his hair, his chest, his arms; god, it seemed like Sam’s arms looked even more amazing than usual right now.

Sam kissed his lips quickly and then started working his way down his body, all warm lips and tongue, and Dean felt like he was coming unglued, especially when he realized what Sam was probably working towards. After kissing Dean’s belly, Sam sat up and pulled off Dean’s boots for him, warm hands lingering on each foot for a quick rub, which felt amazing, especially after those fucking heels. Dean didn’t know how women did it all day long.

Sam ran his hands up Dean’s legs, squeezing gently, and then he hooked his fingers in Dean’s panties and started slowly pulling them down. Dean felt frozen with fear and desire.

The panties were gone and Sam was at his head again.

“Hey,” he said, doing his concerned brow furrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean squeaked out. Sam didn’t look convinced.

“You want to stop?”

“Dude, you stop now, I’ll fucking shoot you in the face,” Dean said. Sam laughed, and kissed him, and ran his hand down Dean’s chest, over his belly. When his fingers parted Dean’s slick folds and skated over his clit, Dean gasped, shutting his eyes.

Sam moved down again, kissing the hollows of Dean’s hips as his fingers explored gently, carefully.

“Open your legs more,” he murmured, and Dean complied automatically, feeling himself flush at just how fucking hot that was to hear from his brother’s lips.

Sam slid a finger into his opening and Dean made an involuntary noise and clenched around him.

“Dean, fuck,” Sam said, sounding slightly stupefied. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Gimme another,” Dean gasped out, because he really couldn’t respond to what Sam had just said.

Two fingers felt even better than one, and Dean groaned. And then he felt Sam’s hot breath across his labia, and the first touch of Sam’s tongue on his folds, and Dean was stunned into silence.

The silence didn’t last more than a couple seconds; the slow exploration of Sam’s tongue had Dean moaning and fisting a hand in the bedsheets in no time. Sam started circling his clit, and flicking his tongue over it; teasing, maddening, and Dean never wanted it to stop. Except for how he was losing his mind.

Sam didn’t let up, gradually ramping up the speed of his tongue and rubbing his fingers on Dean’s G-spot. Dean’s moans became a babble _ohgodSamfuckdon’tstopohgodSammyohmyGOD_ until he came with a drawn-out cry, hips lifting off the bed and Sam somehow still on him, mouth and hands, and it seemed to go on and on until Dean collapsed back against the bed, breathing hard.

And even then Sam didn’t stop; he scissored his fingers inside Dean a few times and moaned against him and expertly flicked his tongue around Dean’s clit and then Dean’s second orgasm hit, almost out of nowhere, and Dean yelled again, shuddering through it.

Sam pulled back enough to kiss Dean’s inner thigh and rub his cheek on it. “One more?” he asked, voice hoarse. He moved his fingers gently inside Dean, not withdrawing, and Dean groaned, walls squeezing them automatically.

“No, man,” he said, voice breathy. “We gotta…gotta do you.”

Sam laughed softly and sat up. Dean bit back a disappointed noise when he pulled his fingers out, and instead sat up and kissed Sam hard, running his hands over Sam’s chest, which he couldn’t seem to stop touching.

“What do you want to do?” Sam asked quietly, when they’d come up for air. His forehead was on Dean’s, his arms around Dean’s waist, and Dean felt giddy.

“Wasn’t the whole point of this for me to get plowed by a hot guy?” Dean said. Sam didn’t immediately respond, and Dean frowned. “I mean, hey, if you changed your mind – ”

“No way,” Sam said. He kissed Dean fiercely, and Dean tried not to melt in his arms. This was _not_ a romance novel, damn it. He set to work on Sam’s belt buckle instead, quickly undoing it and Sam’s jeans. He shoved the jeans down and then was a little more careful with Sam’s boxer briefs, so they wouldn’t catch on his erection.

And fuck, that…sure was an erection. Dean stared at it, trying not to drool. Sam’s cock was hard enough to cut diamonds, and all Dean could think about was getting it inside him.

“Did _you_ change your mind?” Sam asked, misinterpreting Dean’s look.

“Fuck no,” Dean said quickly, wrapping a hand around Sam’s dick ( _ohgodSam’sdickwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_ ), and Sam made a small noise, but as soon as Dean gave an experimental tug, Sam grabbed his wrist. Dean froze.

“Last thing I need is more foreplay,” Sam said, with an embarrassed grin. Dean wanted so badly to tease him for that, but it seemed kind of unfair, because he’d probably be in the same position if he still had a dick. Plus, it meant he’d get what he wanted sooner.

“Great!” he said instead, and flopped down on his back on the bed, spreading his legs wide. “Give it to me, big boy.”

Sam snorted, but he was grinning. He got up and kicked his jeans and briefs off, then rummaged in his bag.

“I really don’t think I need lube,” Dean called out.

“I’m looking for a condom.”

Dean shifted impatiently. “Look, I always wear ’em, and I just got tested a couple months ago. You don’t have to wear one for my sake.” He didn’t want to wait, and damned if he didn’t badly want Sam naked inside him, no barriers…He shoved that thought away quickly. He might be fucking his brother, but there were still limits to what he could admit to himself.

Sam had found the condoms and raised his eyebrows at Dean. “STDs weren’t my first concern, Dean.” He ripped open the condom and started rolling it slowly onto his erection, and somehow even that was crazy hot. Dean watched him.

“Then what…oh, _fuck_.” Dean’s eyes widened. “Yeah. Condom. Definitely. Uh, what’s the expiration date on those?”

“It’s fine. I double-checked.” Sam joined him on the bed again and kissed him fiercely. “Ready?”

Dean nodded fast, feeling unaccountably nervous. A horrifying thought occurred to him. “Oh shit, dude – what if I’m a virgin?”

“What?”

“I mean, what if I have a hymen?!”

Sam considered this. “I mean, you certainly weren’t a virgin in your own body, but…stop me if it hurts, I guess? Whether or not you think it’s from a hymen, of course. Or if you do change your mind, or…”

Dean grabbed the back of Sam’s neck and kissed him. “Shut up and fuck me, Sam.”

Sam huffed a laughed and then he was kneeling between Dean’s legs and carefully positioning his dick. Dean’s breath came faster and he forced himself to relax at the first push, which hurt just a little, but then the head was past that first ring of muscle and Sam was sinking slowly into him and jesus fucking christ this was real, this was _Sam_ filling him up and feeling so good Dean thought he might actually die.

“God, Dean,” Sam was saying in a hoarse voice. “You’re so wet.”

_Cause it’s you_ , Dean thought, but did not say, just stared up at Sam, his brother’s flushed skin and muscular frame, hovering above him like a fucking miracle. And Sam was _inside_ him.

Sam was also frowning down at him, cupping his cheek. “You okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, still feeling dazed.

“Does it hurt?”

Dean shook his head, and touched Sam’s hand that was touching his cheek, and turned his face to kiss Sam’s palm.

“Dean…” Sam said, so softly, and then he started moving, gently, and Dean sucked in a breath and his legs were wrapped around Sam’s waist in two seconds flat without him even thinking about it, pulling Sam closer, deeper. Sam groaned, pausing to move so he was holding his weight on his forearms. He leaned down and kissed Dean again, then started thrusting a little faster, breathing hard.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, fingers digging into his back, kissing Sam’s neck and shoulder. He knew he probably couldn’t come from just this, but _fuck_ , it felt good, and it was Sam, who he loved more than life and who he’d maybe never loved so much as he did right now, when they were this crazy connected.

Sam’s breath was hot on his neck, and he was thrusting steadily, but he was holding back, Dean could tell, from the slick sweat on his back and the quivering muscles in his ass under Dean’s feet. Sam paused to kiss him and Dean kissed him right back, fingers tangled in Sam’s hair, but with half his mind he was thinking how he didn’t want Sam holding back.

So when Sam pulled away, Dean kept his hand on Sam’s face so Sam would look at him, and Dean looked right into his eyes.

“Harder,” he said firmly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he made a strangled noise and then he sure was going harder. Dean gasped for breath, clinging to Sam’s body, and oh, yes, this was what he’d been waiting for, each thrust a burst of pleasure inside him. He licked a couple of his fingertips and slid his hand down his body and started rubbing frantically at his clit, and it was no time at all before he was coming again, back arching and yelling out Sam’s name and not even caring.

“Dean, god,” Sam said in a choked voice, looking down at him with wide eyes. “I gotta either slow down or – ”

“Nah, nah, fuck, come in me, Sammy,” Dean babbled, barely aware of what he was saying but very sure of what he wanted, the aftershocks of the orgasm still pulsing through him, stronger from the movement of Sam’s cock inside him. Sam moaned and then he was slamming into Dean, while Dean spread his legs and gasped in pleasure, feeling his body tightening automatically, clamping down on Sam’s cock and making the movement inside him feel even fucking better, if that was possible.

Sam’s face was buried in his neck and Sam’s hips were pistoning desperately. Dean raked his nails down Sam’s back and then Sam cried out and stilled, the sound he made ending in something like a sob as he shuddered. Dean could feel him pulsing inside and he wondered if this stupid girl body was going to make him cry after all.

Sam had collapsed on top of him and was way too fucking heavy, but Dean ignored the discomfort, stroking Sam’s hair and back and feeling slightly dazed again.

After a moment, Sam sat up abruptly and slid a hand under Dean, rolling onto his side and easily bringing Dean with him, so Dean was curled up against his chest and Sam was still inside him, going soft. It felt wonderful and so fucking safe that Dean felt choked up again.

He swallowed that down and made an impatient noise. “Dude, we don’t have to cuddle.”

Evidently Sam had gotten far too good at reading him, or was just a really good guesser, because he kept his arms tight around Dean.

“How’d I do?” Sam asked.

Dean blinked. _Uh, unbelievable? Mind-blowing? I may never walk straight again and I’m fucking thrilled about it?_ “Not bad,” he said aloud. “I can see why women like to keep you around.”

Sam laughed softly and hugged Dean even tighter. Dean felt Sam’s lips on his hair and his whole body relaxed even more. He should probably be stopping this. He knew Sam had just offered this as a one-time thing so Dean would know what it was like, and because Sam was weirdly kinda into him in girl form. He shouldn’t be letting himself get used to the feeling of Sam’s arms around him, Sam’s broad chest rising and falling against him…But Dean was asleep before he could force himself to move.

***

Sam woke up alone in bed, instantly remembering the events of the night before. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. The room was empty and silent. He felt like there was ice in his veins. Had Dean panicked, and run?

The motel room door opened, and Dean came in with a McDonald’s bag and a cup holder with two big cups of coffee. He looked slightly surprised to see Sam awake.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said. “You were dead asleep. I thought the smell of coffee was the only thing that’d get you up.”

Sam relaxed slightly. Dean seemed strained; his eyes a bit too wide, his cheery morning conversation a little forced. But he hadn’t run, and he was at least trying to act normal. He sat down at the little table and handed Sam a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” Sam said, accepting it and sipping it gratefully. Dean was wearing one of the pairs of jeans he’d bought at Target, with a fairly conservative scoop-neck tee. He adjusted his bra, making a face.

“These things suck,” he complained.

Sam laughed. “That’s the patriarchy for you,” he replied. His stomach rumbled, and he realized they’d slept through dinner the night before. Not surprising, between the sex and how little sleep they’d gotten after their adventure in the cemetery.

Dean threw him a breakfast sandwich and Sam tore into it. They ate in silence, and Sam wondered if he should say something. Should he let Dean bring it up? Were they never going to talk about what had happened? He knew it was more than likely a one-time thing. Dean was straight. He’d been curious what sex was like for women, that was all. Sam knew he should keep his mouth shut and count himself lucky that Dean wasn’t freaking out.

After he was finished eating, Sam started to get out of bed. Dean jumped up from the table. “Hey, I think it’s been awhile since I sharpened the knife,” he muttered. Sam stared at Dean’s back. He’d seen Dean sharpen the demon-killing knife two days ago, and knew it was a flimsy excuse not to accidentally see Sam naked again.

Sam sighed, careful to keep it inaudible, and pulled his boxer briefs on. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, and padded to the bathroom.

As the hot water poured over him, Sam shut his eyes against the tears that sprung up suddenly. It felt like he was washing the night with Dean away; something precious he’d never get back. He steeled himself and thought how at least he’d had it once, more than he’d ever thought he’d get. At least he had the memories. At least he still had Dean in his life.

When he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and wishing he’d brought clothes into the bathroom with him, the room looked like a hurricane had hit it. Dean was nowhere to be seen. Sam looked around, frowning, and managed to locate some of his clean clothing. Just as he was buttoning his shirt, Dean came back into the room, face a dark cloud, banging the door shut behind him.

“Dean, what – ”

“I can’t find the knife,” Dean said. “I looked everywhere. I just checked the Impala, but it’s not there.” Sam’s eyes widened. It was one of their best weapons, and its loss would be a serious blow.

“Think,” he said. “When was the last time you had it?”

Dean was pacing. “I don’t know, man, I usually make sure one of us has it when we go out on a job, so – ” He stopped and looked at Sam. “The cemetery. I brought it, cause you never know when fucking demons are going to show up somewhere. Then I fell, and when I got whammied, none of my clothes fit – ”

Sam nodded. “It probably fell out of your pocket. Let’s go.”

***

It was another beautiful fall day, but Sam and Dean were in no mood to enjoy it. They parked near Consecration Dell and walked rapidly down the path.

“Fuck, I really don’t want to have to ask if there’s a lost and found,” Dean moaned. “‘Scuse me, has any groundskeeper run across an ancient knife with creepy sigils on it? Asking for a friend.’”

Sam snorted, then slowed his pace slightly, realizing Dean sounded a little out of breath. He kept forgetting about their increased height difference.

They split up when they got to the pond, and after a couple minutes, Dean, who was in the reeds at the edge of the pool and practically wading into the water, crowed triumphantly.

“Found it!” he said, relief evident in his voice. “How did it get in here?”

“In all the commotion, someone must have kicked it, or something,” Sam said. Dean wiped the blade off on his jacket sleeve.

They heard the voices of people coming down the path, and Dean stowed the knife quickly in his jacket pocket.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find it,” a voice was saying. “Or maybe they have a lost and found, and somebody turned it in.”

A woman with a taller companion turned the corner, and Sam’s gun was in his hand in a second, pointed at them both. “Don’t move!” he shouted. “Dean, it’s her!”

“You sure?” Dean asked. “Or are you terrorizing some tourists right now?”

“I’m sure,” Sam said. He recognized her now, too, as the same woman they’d seen a couple days before, with the same tall woman she’d been with then. The witch was dressed in all black again, although she had less jewelry today. She and her companion had frozen, and they looked terrified. Strange behavior for a witch, but Sam was certain it was her.

“You’re going to undo what you did to my brother,” Sam said, jerking his head toward Dean.

“Your brother?” The witch looked at Dean, frowning, and then understanding dawned on her face. She pointed at Dean. “Alison! Your earring!” She looked back at Sam, and the gun, and gulped.

“Please don’t hurt us,” she said, her voice shaky with fear. “I can fix your brother. I’m so sorry. This was all a big mistake.”

Sam glanced at Dean, who nodded. He let his arms fall to his sides, but didn’t put the gun away.

“Come with us,” he said.

***

The witch – Serena was the name she gave them – started trying to explain as they hustled her and Alison to the car, but Dean gave her a look.

“Free advice, don’t talk black magic in public,” he said. She glared tearily at him.

“It’s not black magic,” she said defensively.

After they got into the car and closed the doors, she started talking immediately.

“I don’t do black magic,” she said. “Alison is – “ She glanced at her companion.

“It’s okay,” Alison said quietly. “I’m trans.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Dean said, a little too loudly. Sam looked embarrassed.

“My insurance won’t cover surgery,” Alison continued. “Serena wanted to help me be who I really am.”

“The earring was the hardest part,” Serena said. “It took months to create the spell and affix it to the earring. And the ingredients were rare, and expensive. The other night was just to bind it to Alison. But you fell into the circle, and everything went to hell, and the earring ended up with you.”

“Why can’t I take it off?” Dean asked.

“For Alison’s protection. That was another layer of spells; I made it so only she could remove it, so it couldn’t fall out and no one could ever take it off her against her will.”

“That’s…actually really smart,” Sam said.

“Why the fuck were you doing the last spell in a cemetery?” Dean demanded.

Serena’s lip quivered. “We love Mount Auburn. I just wanted her to get to be reborn in a beautiful place.”

Alison smiled at Serena and took her hand, raising it to her lips and kissing Serena’s fingers softly.

Dean blinked, then recovered himself. “Very romantic,” he said. “Next time, maybe just do it in your apartment.” Sam elbowed him in the ribs and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so, what do you need to undo me?”

“Nothing,” Serena said, sounding surprised. Alison reached out with her free hand and gently plucked the earring from Dean’s ear. Dean shuddered, that weird feeling coming over him again, and he shut his eyes. It didn’t last long, and when he opened them again, Sam was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Am I me?” Dean asked, but he could hear it in his voice. He looked down, and was a little sad to see his breasts gone. All his clothing was too tight now, including – 

“Fucking bra,” he muttered, reaching around to his back and trying to get it off. Serena giggled, and he glared at her. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Can we go?” she asked, after a second.

“Hold on, hold on,” Dean muttered, popping open his fly.

“Dean, for god’s sake,” Sam protested. Alison and Serena looked carefully out the backseat car windows.

“I gotta make sure nothing’s missing!” Dean said. He pulled his panties away from his body – damn, he was kind of going to miss those – and checked. When he looked up again, Sam was staring straight ahead.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Dean said, zipping up his jeans again. “You ladies can go. Try not to do any more satanic rituals in cemeteries at midnight, okay? It looks sketchy as fuck.”

“It wasn’t satanic – ” Serena started to say indignantly, but Alison put a hand on her arm, grinning and shaking her head.

“Thanks for getting this back to us,” Alison said. “I can’t even tell you what it means to me.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Sam said, smiling at her. Dean gave Sam a look, as Alison and Serena got out of the car and walked off down the path.

“What?” Sam said. “They’re cute.”

Dean made a face and started the car. “Whatever,” he said. “I need to get back to the motel room and change.”

***

They were silent on the way back to the motel, and in the room, as they started re-gathering their belongings after Dean had changed back into his old clothes. Sam almost said something about how Dean had wrecked the room, some stupid joke or complaint just to get the conversation going, but he didn’t have the spirit.

It was over, him and Dean – he knew that. Not as brothers, or hunting companions, but as lovers. Sam tried to convince himself that it might be easier now, having gotten it out of his system, maybe, or at least gotten to be with Dean once, but he knew better. Maybe it would be easier, down the line. But at the moment, it was much, much worse. Sam had to force himself to keep his eyes off Dean, remembering what it had felt like, desperate to know what it would be like now that Dean was himself again. How he would sound – how he would feel –

Dean sighed loudly. Sam looked over at him and saw that he was holding the denim dress, staring down at it with a wistful expression.

“You okay?” Sam said, voice coming out hoarser than he had intended. He cleared his throat and tried to put on a neutral, sympathetic face, but something must have shown in his eyes, because Dean looked at him for a beat too long before answering.

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said. He looked at the dress again, stroking it with one hand. Sam frowned.

“Dean, are you – ” Dean looked up at him with raised eyebrows. Sam cleared his throat again. “I just mean, if you were trans, or any kind of genderqueer, I wouldn’t judge you – “

Dean burst out laughing, a genuine laugh which made Sam smile a little, despite the weight in his chest. “Nah, Sammy, I never wanted to stay a chick. Just, it was fun, you know?” He glanced at the dress, and his smile faded. He sighed again and shoved the dress into his duffel bag. “I guess I wouldn’t have minded if I’d gotten to enjoy it for a little longer. Cause it was fun. Right?”

He finally looked up at Sam, something vulnerable and worried showing through the mask he always tried to wear, and Sam knew he was talking about last night. Sam nodded, quickly.

“Really fun,” he said, and gave Dean a small smile. Dean smiled back, looking relieved. Sam felt a little better; not much, but a little. At least it didn’t seem like Dean was going to have a total emotional breakdown about their sex.

“We’re paid through tomorrow; guess we might as well stay, huh?” Dean said. “Make sure we ganked the right ghost?”

Sam nodded. “Sounds good. Want to get some lunch? I guess you’ll want Wild Willy’s again, huh?”

Dean gave a half-shrug. “I’m not that hungry,” he said. Off Sam’s worried look, he rolled his eyes. “Relax, man. Maybe for dinner.”

“Okay,” Sam said, deciding not to push it. After they finished putting the room back in order, Dean turned on the TV and Sam opened his laptop, checking the local news for more deaths at the theater, or anything else that looked suspicious. There was nothing, and so he started checking the national news, hunting for a case they could head off to the next day.

After about half an hour, Dean got up from his bed and went to his duffel, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Sam watched him with a bemused expression.

“Want some?” Dean asked, when he caught Sam’s look.

Sam considered responding with the bitchy _It’s one p.m., Dean,_ that his brother was surely anticipating, but…why not?

“Sure,” he said, chin raised a little, in defiance of expectations.

Dean looked taken aback for a moment, then chuckled. “Atta boy,” he said. He got their cups from the bathroom and poured them each a generous amount.

They drank in silence, as Dean watched TV and Sam tried to keep looking for a case and not look at Dean, who was sprawled out in a lazy, comfortable way that made Sam ache. If he could just crawl onto the bed and straddle him and – 

“What?” Dean said, feeling his eyes and catching him staring. Sam quickly turned away.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Dean said.

Sam shook his head and stared blindly at his laptop screen. The room felt suddenly too close, the air too warm, and he couldn’t get a breath; every time he tried, all he could smell was Dean, all he could think of was Dean’s skin under his hands, Dean’s face when he’d pushed inside him…

“Too bad I couldn’t’ve kept Alison’s earring for just one more night, huh?” Dean said suddenly. Sam looked at him again, but Dean was staring into his cup, one hand anxiously twisting around the bottom. Was Dean _blushing_? He must have drunk more than Sam had realized.

Sam tried to think of what to say, desperate to figure out if Dean was getting at what he hoped Dean was getting at. Was Sam just seeing what he wanted to be there? Did Dean just want to talk about something related to that specific scenario?

He took too long about it, because after a moment Dean gave a forced laugh. “I know, I’m totally fucked up for wanting another crazy night with my…” He seemed to choke on the word ‘brother,’ and took a long drink of whiskey.

“Dean, no,” Sam said quickly. Dean still wasn’t looking at him, and Sam knew he’d better talk fast. “I mean…it’d be fun if you still had it. I’d definitely be up for a second round with you like that, but…” He swallowed, praying he wasn’t about to make Dean bolt. “But I don’t care what you look like, or what equipment you’ve got. I’d do – that – or whatever, something like it – no matter what.”

Dean looked at him quickly, eyes wide. “Really?”

Sam nodded. “Anytime.”

Dean swallowed hard and looked back at his whiskey glass. “Do you think though…isn’t it, you know…totally fucked up?”

Sam shrugged, trying to fight down the hope blossoming in his heart, the ache that made him want so badly to touch Dean and tell him it was okay, that it was right for them. He forced calm into his voice. “Maybe. But so what? Our lives have always been fucked up. And I don’t care if this is, too.”

Dean was looking at him from the corner of his eyes. “So you’d…want to?”

Sam nodded again. “More than you know,” he said, and he hadn’t meant for the words to come out so husky, but Dean turned towards him, and put his cup down on the bedside table. He stopped then, hesitating, eyes still wide, and Sam put his own cup down and crawled onto the bed.

For a second they just lay on their sides, staring at each other, and then Sam reached out and touched Dean’s cheek, terrified to lose this momentum. Dean’s eyelids fluttered half-closed, then opened again quickly.

“Are you sure you wanna do it with me like this?” he said. “Like…” He gestured down at his body. “Regular me?”

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” Sam said. His eyes flicked down Dean’s body, without his volition. “For years.” His eyes met Dean’s again. Dean’s mouth was half-open, and Sam couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s in a warm kiss.

Dean sucked in a breath and kissed Sam back eagerly, tongue sliding into Sam’s mouth. Sam closed the gap between them, pressing his body to Dean’s, letting his hands roam over the planes of Dean’s shoulders and back. It was like a second first time, almost; Dean smelled almost the same, but his body was different, and even the noises he made were unexpected in his deeper voice.

And the length of his cock, hardening against Sam’s hip, was all new. Sam pulled away from Dean’s mouth to work with feverish fingers at Dean’s jeans, consumed with the desire to see the thing he’d fantasized about since he was a teenager. Dean was breathing hard and didn’t say a word as Sam opened his jeans. As Sam looked in, he paused.

Dean was still wearing panties; different from yesterday’s, but still black, still silky and lacy. Sam looked up into Dean’s face. Dean was bright pink.

“They were comfy,” he mumbled.

“They look awesome,” Sam said. He’d been planning to pull Dean’s underwear straight off, but instead he caressed Dean’s cock through his panties, enjoying the smooth fabric under his fingers, and the way Dean twitched and moaned at his touch. Sam kept it up, palming the bulge until Dean was rutting against his hand and there was a wet spot where the head pressed against the fabric.

Finally, almost reluctant, Sam pushed Dean’s jeans and panties down so Dean’s cock sprang free. He examined it for a long moment, one hand on Dean’s hip, thumb circling on his skin.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dean snapped finally.

“Don’t tempt me,” Sam said, almost absently. He looked up to see Dean staring at him, mouth agape. Sam laughed and kissed Dean, then pushed him onto his back and slid down his body. He shoved Dean’s shirt up a little and mouthed at his stomach and hipbone for a minute, but he couldn’t make himself wait any longer and he sucked Dean’s cock down as far as he could. Dean groaned, his hips rising. Sam let himself explore, with lips and tongue and gentle teeth, listening to Dean’s hitched breaths and little pleasure sounds, taking his time and soaking this in.

When he was satisfied – for the moment – he pulled off, keeping his hand wrapped around Dean’s dick in a firm grip, but barely moving it. He kissed Dean soundly, then moved to his jaw and neck, enjoying the scratch of stubble, nipping at Dean’s earlobe.

“Want you to fuck me,” he breathed, into Dean’s ear, and Dean jerked violently, looking at him with eyes gone wide as saucers again, his body rigid.

“No way,” he said immediately. “What if I hurt you or something? You can do me.”

“It’s my turn,” Sam said. “I deserve to get plowed by a hot guy, too.”

Dean blinked rapidly at him. “But – “

Sam let his face go soft, his eyes big; Dean would do almost anything when Sam gave him that look. “Please, Dean?” He stroked Dean’s cock rapidly a few times before stilling his hand again, just for good measure.

Dean shut his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Fuck, Sam, god damn it,” he said helplessly, and Sam knew he’d won.

He started pulling Dean’s clothing off eagerly, and Dean was undressing him just as fast, except that they kept getting in each other’s way, or stopping to kiss and run their hands all over each other, so it took longer than it should have. Eventually, though, they were both naked. Sam tossed Dean the lube and flopped down on the bed on his stomach. Something occurred to him and he looked back at Dean with a frown.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah, shut up, it’s not my first time,” Dean grumbled. Sam wondered what else he didn’t know about his brother.

Maybe, now, he’d be able to find out.

Dean’s preparation of him was slow, and so, so careful. Sam knew nothing in the world would make Dean go faster than he thought was necessary, so Sam just relaxed and enjoyed it, spreading his legs wide and letting Dean open him up. The knowledge of even just Dean’s fingers inside him was enough to keep him hard, and whenever Dean hit his prostate, Sam moaned and pushed into the bed.

Sam was practically begging by the time Dean judged it was enough. Dean leaned over him and kissed his shoulder. Sam arched up into him, loving the warmth of Dean at his back. Then Dean withdrew again, and there was a long pause.

So long, eventually, that Sam became concerned. He looked back to see Dean staring at his body with a terrified expression.

“I can’t do it,” he said bleakly. “I want to – fuck, I want to, but – what if I hurt you, Sammy?”

His eyes met Sam’s, and Sam felt a rush of pity at the fear there. He sat up and kissed Dean hard.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I got it. Lie down. On your back, okay?”

Dean let out a slow, shuddering breath and obeyed. Sam straddled his hips and reached behind himself to stroke Dean’s flagging erection back to full hardness.

“I’m gonna ride you, all right?” Sam said. “That way I’ll know right away if anything’s wrong and I can stop. Okay?” God, he hoped it would be enough. He was going crazy after all that preparation, and he wanted Dean inside him more than he’d wanted almost anything in his whole life.

He breathed an internal sigh of relief at Dean’s eager nod. And his dick in Sam’s hand was hard again, so Sam slicked it with lube and then positioned himself carefully.

After all Dean’s work on him, the head breaching him barely hurt at all. Sam sank down slowly onto his brother’s cock, gasping at how good it felt to be filled up like this. And it was _Dean_.

“Ohfuckohfuck _Sammy_ ,” Dean was babbling, hands squeezing Sam’s thighs. “Oh god, you okay? All right?”

“So fucking good,” Sam managed to get. “Dean, you don’t even know…”

Dean gave a strangled laugh. “Well…I _kinda_ do.”

Sam chuckled and kissed him quickly, then sat back up, letting his hips rise and fall, adjusting his position until Dean’s cock was hitting his prostate on almost every stroke. He went slowly at first, trying to draw this out, but then Dean wrapped a hand around his cock and started jerking him, and suddenly Sam was bouncing on Dean’s dick without even meaning to, biting his lip so he wouldn’t cry out too loudly.

“Sammy…” Dean was saying, in this amazed voice that made Sam feel crazy with need, and as he felt his orgasm approaching he drove himself back onto Dean’s cock and came with a groan over Dean’s hand.

And Dean’s chest, Sam realized when he looked down. Dean had let go of Sam’s cock when he was done and grabbed his hips, and Sam kept still as Dean thrust up into him. Dean’s back and neck arched as he came, crying out a wordless sound. Sam could feel Dean pulsing inside him and thought dizzily that this was the best his life had ever been.

Dean pulled him down and kissed him hard, and Sam lay on Dean’s chest, face pressed into Dean’s neck, trusting that enough of his weight was still on his legs that he wasn’t crushing his brother. Dean’s fingers were in his hair, and Sam stroked Dean’s shoulder with his thumb.

After a moment, Dean shifted, and it occurred to Sam suddenly to be worried again about this, and about if Dean could handle it, because if he couldn’t, Sam wasn’t sure he could go back to pretending that there was nothing between them. To being with Dean all the time and never touch him like this, never get to do all the other firsts they still had left to do…

“Dude, get off me,” Dean said, and Sam froze, heart hammering in his chest. _No_ …

“Sammy,” Dean said impatiently. “Move. I’m hungry. Let’s shower and go get Wild Willy’s.” He kissed Sam’s neck, and Sam could breathe again.

But he still didn’t move. “Shower together?” he said, voice low.

Dean was silent for a beat, and then he laughed. “I shoulda known you’d be the clingy type. Yeah, shower together.” He turned Sam’s face towards his and kissed him gently. Sam tried not to melt into it, and reluctantly disentangled himself from Dean and rolled over onto his back, watching Dean as he got up and went to turn on the water.

Sam found himself thinking about Mount Auburn Cemetery, and wondered if he could get Dean there for one more walk before they left Massachusetts. He could really see why Alison and Serena thought it was such a special place.

**Author's Note:**

> All the locations in this story are completely real. If you’re ever in the Boston area, I cannot recommend a visit to Mount Auburn Cemetery highly enough. (Ditto Wild Willy’s. I know it’s a ridiculous name, but the food is great.)


End file.
